


Kansas City Comic Book Night

by LokisGirl



Category: Metallica
Genre: M/M, Platonic BDSM, Public Scene, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29066013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokisGirl/pseuds/LokisGirl
Summary: Kirk and Lars have a night off on tour. Kirk wants to visit a comic book store that's hosting a kink community night. Lars tags along and discovers something new about himself.
Relationships: Kirk Hammett/Lars Ulrich
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Kansas City Comic Book Night

**Author's Note:**

> Originally elsewhere 2014-ish. Dedicated to kinksters everywhere and the fine folks at Fetish Masquerade in particular.

A rainy Wednesday night in the middle of the tour. A night with no gig. A night with nothing to do. Seriously, what are a bunch of West Coast boys going to do stuck in the Mid West? Apparently James is going to drink himself stupid and pass out on the bus without making it to the hotel, and Jason is doing his disappearing act. Whether it’s to a bar to hang out with the locals or doing I-don’t-wanna-know-what with a groupie, Jason is hardly ever around nights off. Which leaves me to hang out with Kirk. As usual, Kirk is on the trail of comic books. Yawn. 

At least this time we’re going to an actual event and not just trying to get to a store ten minutes before closing. Kirk heard from a fan that this coffee house hosts a monthly comic art event. The place is called Shameless Grounds. At least that part sounds promising. Maybe there will be shameless girls! 

We hop into a cab at the hotel. The driver assures us he knows exactly where we’re going. Twenty minutes later, it’s clear he’s lying. I’m not even sure we’re in Kansas City any more. Passing the big sign that says Welcome to St. Louis was a bit of a hint. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the wooden sign in front of the shop a bit later. It was only a forty dollar cab ride. I’m standing on the sidewalk waiting for Kirk to pay and get the cabbie’s card so we can call to get a ride back when a girl almost slams into me coming around the corner. She’s gotta be six feet tall, dressed all in black fishnet. I’m not that big, so mostly what I saw were her boobs, right at my eye level. She mumbles an apology, and dashes inside the coffee shop. I wonder what kind of comics she works on in that outfit, and start to warm up to the idea of spending the night with a bunch of geeks. If they all look like that, this will be good times.

Kirk and I push through the door and have a look around. There’s a long wooden bar along one wall, with glass cases of pastries and cakes on display. An alcove off to one side has computers and chairs. In the centre of the room there’s a burly man tying up a slender woman with the word “unicorns” tattooed on her arm. 

There’s a burly man tying up a woman? What? I shake my head and burst out laughing. I’m more surprised than anything else. This is much better than comics any day! Clapping a hand on Kirk’s shoulder, I stick my tongue out at him. “You could have just said you wanted to go for kink!” Kirk’s grinning like a cat getting a belly scratch. This is his element. 

“I swear I didn’t know! We can go if you want…” That’s what he says, but what I hear is: “Please Lars, this is gonna be fun!” I run a hand through my hair and try to keep a straight face. I’m not as experimental as Kirk. To be honest, I haven’t had that many chances to experiment. Most of the sex I’ve had in my life has been with groupies, and they don’t usually come with accessories. I shake my head, raising a conspiratorial eyebrow. 

“No way! You dragged me all the way down here, and now I wanna see the show. We’re not going all the way back to the hotel now.” I stroll over to the bar, trying hard to look like I come to this kind of place every day. The girl behind the counter takes my order, large black with two sugars, and a green tea for Kirk. She looks at me as if she’s trying to place my face. I start to wonder if this is a bad idea. Rumours get started this way, and the last thing I want is for this to turn into some kind of Metallica meet and greet. 

“Are you on Fet?” she asks. I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I just shake my head. Kirk chimes in over my shoulder. 

“Nah. He’s vanilla. I’m part of the group though- Master Spider. What’s your handle?” He reaches across the counter to shake her hand. She grasps it warmly like he’s an old friend.

“You’re Spider? Awesome to meet you. I’m Ropeshimmy. I think we’ve crossed on a few posts.”

Kirk lights up. “Ropeshimmy? You’re KnotNice’s bunny, right? You two have done some cool photo shoots.” Kirk knows this girl? From the middle of nowhere? I must look confused because Kirk turns to me and explains. “We’re on the same fetish website. Actually, if I had to guess I’d say a lot of these folks are on Fetlife. It’s a big community online. Kinksters always find a way to know each other some how.”

Ah. Now I get it. Mostly. “What does ‘vanilla’ mean?” I ask. If Kirk has just labelled me a pervert, I’d like to know what kind!

Ropeshimmy answers the question for him. “Nilla just means you’re not into kink at the moment. Mostly I think it means you just haven’t found your kink yet. Everyone’s kinky, some people haven’t figured it out yet!” She and Kirk laugh like they’ve been sharing an inside joke for years. “This is a great place to learn. We’re doing a rope bondage demo tonight, covering all the basic techniques.”

Kirk’s smile gets even bigger. This is ridiculous. Ropeshimmy gestures to an older man across the room. He comes to join us. Introductions are made. He’s Derek, and this is his party. Seems he’s also a friend of Kirk’s from the site. I’m leaning against the counter, casual as can be. Derek leans beside me and drops his voice. “If you don’t want to be out as part of the kink scene, just make up a handle to use for the night. A lot of folks here have conservative jobs and don’t use their real names at parties. We only allow photos to be taken of people with their permission here so you’re ok that way.” Clearly he knows who we are. It’s cool that he’s trying to respect our privacy. 

The people are super friendly and incredibly down to earth for a bunch usually perceived as being psychologically damaged. I listen in on a discussion about SSC play, which stands for Safe, Sane, and Consensual. I’m getting a big eye opener here. I thought this world was all about whips and chains, people getting hurt, and giving up personal freedom for silly reasons. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Someone fills me in on the amount of time they spent negotiating a play scene with their partner: six months of back and forth on what the limits would be, what would be involved, and how it would play out. That’s longer than it took to negotiate our last record deal, and it was worth millions. This is serious stuff. Everyone wants to make certain that nothing goes wrong, that play is as safe as it can be for all parties involved. No one makes fun of me because I don’t understand the terminology, they simply fill me in and continue the discussion. 

Kirk is deep in discussion with a skinny Asian dude. The guy has a giant duffel bag, and they start digging out the contents. Rope, in every colour of the rainbow. Kirk is feeling it, rubbing lengths between his fingers and nodding sagely. He picks out a couple bundles of bright purple and takes out his wallet. I feel like I’m watching a drug deal go down. Kirk comes to join the little group I’m in. “Man, this is great. I always wanted rope from Serenity 9! He makes the best stuff!” Kirk is radiant. The only time I’ve ever seen him make that face before was when he got a new guitar. 

A tall girl in leather pants and a tank top with wide leather cuffs around her wrists pipes up. “Who are you going to try it out on?” 

“We all know you’re a permanent volunteer!” someone else jokes. “Rope slut!”

“Never play with anyone you don’t know,” Ropeshimmy reminds everyone of what I’m told is the first rule of kink. 

“Psst. You’re just trying to ruin it for me because KnotNice isn’t here and you’re bound so you can’t play!” Leather pants retorts.

“Actually,” Kirk says slowly, dipping his head and lowering his voice a little, “the only one I know here is you.” It takes a second for me to realize he must be talking to me. A roomful of hot chicks, and Kirk wants to tie me up? Another “what the hell is going on?” moment for me. 

I pause. I’m totally intrigued by this community. These people genuinely care for each other, and what they do is obviously a source of great passion. They trust each other implicitly. That’s a big turn on for me. With my history I’ve had very few encounters with people I really trusted. People like Kirk. I shrug, my black t-shirt riding up my stomach a little. What the hell.

“Do you know what you’re doing? Cos I have no clue. I can tell you for sure that stringing me from the ceiling is out of the question.” Suddenly it seems important to get this right. This step is fundamental for kinksters, and we have an audience. I want to make a good impression. This scene is important to Kirk, if only on the internet, and I have to help his reputation. 

“Okay. That’s not really my thing anyway. I do more predicament bondage.” The phrase rolls off his tongue as though he says it every day. 

“Predicament?” I wave a hand through the air as though a definition will magically appear. 

“Edge play! I love it! Predicament bondage is when someone ties you up so you could move if you wanted to, but it’s really uncomfortable to do it. Then they try to make you!” Ropeshimmy laughs, a bright infectious sound that makes me like her a lot.

“Is this going to hurt?” I ask Kirk. He’s looking me straight in the eye so I know he’s on the level. No joking around now. 

“Not a bit, unless you want it to.” He’s starting to look a bit concerned, as if it’s just occurred to him what we’re about to do in a roomful of strangers. Cool strangers, for sure, but still strangers.

“I’m keeping my clothes on.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not tying me to anything.”

“Okay.”

“The instant I say so, you’re going to untie me.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t cut off my circulation.”

“I would never do that to anyone. It’s bad form.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Kirk unravels a length of the purple rope. I stand up, and he leads me a little away from the group, out towards the middle of the room where there’s more space. He steps behind me and loosely brings my wrists together behind my back. He leans in, whispering in my ear. “Are you sure about this?”

I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

Kirk begins to wrap the rope around my wrists. I stand as still as I possibly can. I can’t see what Kirk’s doing but it feels like he’s weaving the rope up my forearms. I flex experimentally. There’s not much play, just enough that I can wiggle a bit. He comes around to face me. 

“How are you doing? Still comfortable with all this? We can stop if you want,” he checks with me. We’re making full eye contact again, and I can see that he needs to be certain this is something I want. I nod. 

“I’m ok. When does this get to be fun?”

Kirk steps in close. Really close. He reaches behind me for the ends of the rope and starts to wind it around my chest in an elaborate net of knots. The design must go around my body ten or fifteen times, and every time he passes the rope behind me I feel his hot breath on my neck. Electricity tingles through me and I look down. Which means I pretty much have nothing to look at except the floor and Kirk’s body or his hands when he’s working on the front. The process takes longer than I thought it would and I’m slowly turning to jello. For no reason at all. My insides are mush. Kirk periodically asks me how I’m feeling, stroking my fingertips to check my circulation. Each time he does, I feel a little rush. It’s a much more intimate feeling than I ever would have guessed. It’s not sexual, I’m tingly all over, but I'm not actively or obviously turned on. Thank god. Any time I’ve ever thought to myself “this is Heaven” before, it involved a full-on rager. My train of thought makes me a little edgy, shifting my weight from foot to foot. I flex my arms again and realize that I can’t move them more than a fraction. I’m under Kirk’s control now, and even walking away won’t help. I could do that, with the complication that I’d have to get someone else to untie me. I imagine turning up at the hotel like this, having to hunt down Jason to free me. James wouldn’t help at all, he’d be too busy laughing. Fantasizing about that kind of humiliation adds another aspect to the whole scene, and this time it’s definitely sexy. “I’m under Kirk’s control,” just keeps running through my mind, over and over. ”I’m under Kirk’s control.” And I like it. A lot.

“That’s it,” Kirk announces. He leads me over to a mirror hanging by the bathroom door. I’m greeted by the sight of myself wrapped in an elaborate spider’s web. It’s symmetrical, horizontal crossties delicately bisecting vertical strands, and incredibly beautiful. It’s art. I’m floored. I still look like me, even a vaguely ridiculous me, but the ropework is gorgeous. 

“Wow. You really are good at this. What happens now?” I ask, still gazing at our reflection.

“Well, either you can hang out in it for a while if you’re comfortable that way, or I can untie you. Or I can do the rest.”

I hold his gaze in the mirror. “Do the rest?”

“Um, yeah. That style of bondage can also cover your legs pretty easily, and I do have more rope. It’s a bit more restrictive though. You won’t be able to walk around and socialize.”

I swallow hard. I blink once, holding something back. I’m not sure what it is, but I know for sure that if there’s more of this, more of Kirk, I need it. Staring into Kirk’s dark eyes I reply simply. “Please.”

Kirk squeezes my hands in both of his. He nods. Winding the second rope around my legs in an equally intricate pattern to the chest harness, he draws my knees up to my chest. Looping the rope from behind my knees around my neck, Kirk has me completely bound. I’m totally unable to move on my own, except for an ineffective hop that causes me to fall on my side. I’m totally under Kirk’s control, at his mercy. I should be howling mad by now, all the defiant punk rock parts of me screaming. Those traits have all gone silent, leaving me to enjoy the bizarre situation of being immersed in Kirk’s care. I trust Kirk. He would never hurt me or let anyone else do me harm. I’m his to do with what he pleases. Kirk will make the decisions for now, this is his world, and he’ll do the right thing. I trust him. I’m his. 

Floating so deep in my own head, I don’t see it coming. The waggling fingers coming at my unprotected sides. The tickling. My reverie is broken, and a high pitched screech escapes me. I’m thrashing around, trying to escape, laughing and crying at the same time. Tears streak down my face. I can taste them through the gigantic smile on my face. Kirk keeps tickling me, I keep thrashing, practically bouncing on the floor in my haste to get away. Finally I can’t take any more- I’m afraid I’m going to pee my pants.

“No! Stop! That’s enough! Untie me!” 

And that’s it. Kirk stops instantly. He’s still laughing as he begins to unravel his web. “Why would you do that to me?” I sputter, spitting out a strand of hair that got into my mouth during the struggle.

Kirk makes a face, wide eyed and angelic. “You didn’t say no tickling.”

My sides ache, and I’m pretty sure my arms are bruised. I don’t know why, but I’ve never been happier in my life. I may be untied, but I’m still Kirk’s.


End file.
